


half-remembered lyrics to a half-forgotten song

by Oparu



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 17:23:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12752805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: from the prompt:  Regina being awake from Drizella's curse and bumping into Mal one day or Mal walking into the bar one night; but we don't know if she (Mal) is awake or not, author's choice on that bit!Regina starts out needing a distraction, but maybe it’s something deeper she wants. Dragon Queen with a tiny bit of Regina and Rogers being friends at the end.





	half-remembered lyrics to a half-forgotten song

**Author's Note:**

> Regina trying to pretend she's Roni is really interesting (and painful), I wanted to give her some outlet, and Mal makes a good one, even if she's still not sure.

Roni knows how to make drinks so well that Regina doesn’t have to pay any attention. Her fingers move of their own accord, twisting lime wedges, throwing cherries on top. It’s mind-numbing, but exactly, like potions. Some of them make people forget their day, some make people dance, some make people go home with strangers.

They’re all crude magic, yet she’s as fond of the burn of alcohol as her patrons are. Some nights it take the edges off. She’s not Regina Mills, evil queen turned hero. She’s not even Henry’s mother here, yet she is. She was his mother asleep and his mother every waking moment. Her heart, healing as it is, is his, first and foremost and she can’t be with him. She can’t tell him the truth. It’s Storybrooke all over again when he didn’t remember except this drags on, and on.

She hasn’t killed Drizella yet, hasn’t torn out her own heart, because perhaps she’s more patient. Maybe she’s tougher, older, more patient than she was. 

Maybe she's afraid. 

Fuck it, maybe tonight she just needs a distraction. Luckily, Roni's single. There's no significant other to lie to, but from the pictures in Roni's apartment above the bar,she has a life. She has friends, people she mentors. As lonely as Roni was, she tried. Regina can't help holding her in an odd sort of affection. Yes, her taste in clothing is atrocious, and cheap, and  _ leopard print _ , really? 

She tried to do something with her life. So much was stacked against her, no Henry, no chance for hope, yet she tried. 

Regina allows herself that compassion when she crawls into her creaky bed at night and drags herself up in the morning. She needs time, Henry does, they all do, but waiting has never been her thing. 

In any universe. 

She finds it while she's doing laundry. A save the rhinos t-shirt, soft, well worn, definitely too pretty to be one of Roni's things. Roni does not wear lavendar. How did she get it? Is it for laundry day? Some gift she never wore? No, the fabric's too worn, the print is too old. Someone wore this, often, and it's just a little too big. It doesn't matter that Tuesday when she throws it on because it's time to open the bar and Roni desn't care what she looks like.

At least, not in a way Regina is comfortable with. 

It's not her color, it's not even hers, but it's soft, and she makes it to the end of her shift before anyone notices that instead of black, she's in lavendar. 

"I was wondering where I'd left that."

"Found it in the laundry, maybe you left it in the dryer." This ridiculous building only has shared washers and dryers. What urban nightmare did Ivy create for all of them.

"It looks good on you."

She sets down the martini glasses and turns, fake smile ready. She can play nice with this upstairs neighbour, give the shirt back, give her shots, whatever it takes to keep herself sane for one more day. 

Escept...she knows that face, those eyes, that mouth smiling back at her without a trace of disdain. 

"Mal?"

She can't be here, she can't leave Storybrooke, she can't even be cursed this way, she wasn't in that forest when Drizella cast the spell she can't be here.

"Long day?" 

Yeah," she blinks, trying to find some kind of composure, because Maleficent can't be here. "How's Lilith?"

"Asleep on the windowsill, as if she can soak up the rest of the sun" 

There is no Lily, none of them get to be happy, but Lilith is a spoilt little black cat who thinks she owns Mal's apartment (and does). 

"I'm sorry I forgot my shirt." 

"It's okay, I was behind on laundry anyway." 

"Need me to get you another punk rock shirt?"

"Maybe."

Flirting. Easy, lazy, familiar. 

Maybe she didn't pull the shirt out of the dryer.

The door shuts out the rest of the world and Mal smiles a little. "Closing time, want some help?"

"You don't have anywhere better to be?"

"Freelance accountants work when we want, if we have work."

"You always have work."

"Maybe sweeping your floor is better than spreadsheets."

"Oh that's bullshit and you know it." The memory returns hazily, Mal in Roni's bed mixing with Maleficent's bed and the way Regina once crept there for solace and comfort. How she learned things about herself she'd been ignoring. 

They put up the chairs so they can mop in the morning and they pass each other behind the bar, body's brushing, hands touching and that's how they are here. Comfortable, easy, unimportant. Not lasting but lingering, not love, but some sort of easy familiarity. 

They head upstairs the taste of whiskey lingering in their mouths, and Mal leans against her door. "You still have my shirt."

"Well, I can't just take it off in the hallway." Was she flirting? Are there? Is it wrong when she knows who Mal is, their history, their entire tragic not-love-story? 

Lilith trots over the door, rubbing against both of their ankles and demanding she be fed and admired before they're allowed to return to what they were doing. 

"There you go, little one."

"I forget cats can be so loud."

"Black ones are always the loudest. Maybe I should get her a brother or sister, someone to keep her company."

"She doesn't like sharing you with me."

"You sleep on her side of the bed." 

Regina's heart thuds in her chest. So they are, of course they are, Mal's a constant in her messy life. Even if she's just a dream, she's a warm one. Regina tugs up on her t-shirt, exposing her tank top (it's too crude to be called a camisole) and Mal's hands rest on her stomach. 

"You can keep the shirt, it looks good on you." 

"I hate colours."

"They like you." Even cursed, Mal's hands are so warm they burn through to her stomach.  "You look amazing tonight."

"I didn't shower."

"You're brighter."

"It's the purple."

"No, dear--"

Heat runs down her spine and Regina's mind hangs on the word. She's not awake, she can't be. There's no way, and yet the way they kiss is intimately familiar. Mal's mouth knows hers, not just Roni, but her. Mal nibbles on her bottom lip and Regina shoves her towards the table and in a sea of confusion, this is right. 

This is half-honest. 

They kiss, removing Regina's t-shirt and striping Mal of her flannel shirt (since when does she even know flannel exists) and they tumble, up against the wall, against the counter, hands on skin, removing cheap bras and dragging down skin-tight jeans. Mal licks her way up Regina's thigh and she wants to laugh because naked, they're them. She knows that brown dot by Mal's shoulder blade and the scars on her ribs. Their skin hasn't changed. 

Mal licks across and  _ fuck _ , that heat is all her. Regina should be defeating Drizella, finding a way to save them all from pain and suffering, not letting Mal run her tongue over her clit until her eyes water. She aches, sizzles, burns and letting herself orgasm seems unfair. She doesn't deserve it. She's just using her, Mal isn't even really here. 

It's a dream.

Some kind of twisted curse nightmare where she feels everything she should feel, but it's made of smoke. 

Mal rises up above her, breasts brushing against Regina's stomach as her fingers dive deep, working her in and out, pushing her upward. Mal looks her in the eyes, staring into her as if she can read all the way down to the truth beneath Roni and the lies separating Regina from the rest of this cursed world. 

"Not yet," she whispers, sucking her neck. "Wait, dear." 

There's not magic. There can't be magic they're cursed, this is a land without, and yet Mal's eyes glow grey for a moment in the darkness, Regina's skin tingles as if dragon fire has washed over her. 

"Wait." 

Resist. Be fucking patient when she can't breathe and grips the sheets so tightly that her fingers are numb.

Mal licks her way back down, thrusts her fingers in deeper, rougher, and then her tongue returns to Regina's clit. She sucks in counterpoint to her hands, regina's panting turns ragged, her breath slips away with her heartbeat. Inescapable, whether it's true or not. 

"I can't," Regina begs, rasping the words. "I can't."

Magic rises, a mist rather than a wave, but it connects them in a way that's true. One single, sobbing instant, and she breaks, crashing, shivering until Mal's wrapped around her. 

She's always so warm. 

She allows herself a moment to catch her breath, for some feeling to return to her fingers and lips before Regina flips her down, kissing, nipping, finding her way with teeth and tongue. 

Rather than fighting back, Mal welcomes her, laughing until she has to pant, then moan, and when she comes wordless, turns boneless, there's no kissing and whispering Roni's name. 

Somehow she knows, somehow they've reached that understanding. Regina should creep home. She doesn't think Roni's the kind who sleeps over, but Mal's bed is warm and soft. 

And she's never called her Roni, just dear. Regina's dear when they make breakfast, dear as she pours the coffee and dear when she goes home in a different shirt with a wise lion on the front. At least it's black, which hides the fact that Lilith sheds on everything.

Damn cat was warm on her feet. She can't be Lily. It has to be a coincidence.

Rogers orders his coffee, eggs and toast and smirks at her neck twice before Regina realizes that there are marks by her shirt. She grabs some floaty scarf that was left last week and wraps it around her neck. 

"Glad to see you managed to have a good time." 

At least he saw it, not Henry. Henry might not care that his mentor has a sex life, but Regina can't keep a straight face discussing it with him. He's her son, not her friend, and she is not ready for that. Will never be. He doesn't need to know about Mal, or anything Roni has going on.  

"Sometimes you just need to connect," she admits to Rogers instead. He's Hook, even as a boy scout police office, he won't judge. 

"Vigourously."

"Shut up."

He eyes his coffee up. "Fill me up and I will."

She fills her own coffee up and circles the bar to sit beside him. "Do you know the accountant who lives on the ninth floor?"

"Of this building?" He toys with his bacon before nodding. "She's done some work for us, finding tax dodgers and the like. Mal, loves animals."

"Oh?" Damn lion shirt is a total giveaway.  Why doesn't she still have that ACDC shirt in the back room for emergencies? 

"Tall, nice, efficient."

There are worse things for someone to be. 

"Single?" The question slips out, but Roni's a tactless bartender, what does it matter?

"Didn't mention a husband, or a wife. Talked a little about her cat."

"Lilith."

"The little demon, aye." He raises an eyebrow. "Well then, I hope you continue to enjoy yourself."

What should she say? She has no one else to talk to. Rumple will never have answers about if Mal's here, how she could be here. Even if he did, he's rarely in a sharing mood. 

"I did, She clings to her coffee and grins. "For a moment, I really did." 


End file.
